What could happen to you when you wait for book 6
by Valias
Summary: The title says it all! FINISHED!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I in no way own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling for all those people who have been living in the dark ages. Also, I like HP and this story is in no way meant to bash it. Please read and review! : ) Thanks to George is hot-MrsMoony, dolphingirl79, WriterzCramp, SweetSorrow1, Bless U- I'm flattered! and Yup- thanks!, but I don't know, I wrote it in like fifteen minutes, lol. I corrected the story btw: the fourth book was Goblet of Fire- lol Chapter two is up.  
  
Summary: This is a story about what waiting for the sixth book to come out could do to you.  
  
I sat in my rocker, looking aimlessly ahead of me at my overweight cat. It had been fifty years since the fifth Harry Potter book had come out, and I had been waiting for the sixth, let alone the seventh, to come out for that long. The story was that J.K. Rowling had gotten entangled in a web of fanfiction over the internet, and all of it tainted her view of how to write the last two books in the series.  
Over the years, Rowling set aside Harry Potter to take more of a role in charity events and act in a few movies. In her late 80s now, Rowling finally decided to finish the series she had started. The sixth book, not surprisingly called Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch, just arrived in bookstores today.  
Now about me, and the world, really: a strangle illness had plagued the planet, no doubt the work of terrorists, and all the elderly age fifty and over were affected. Affected people were given a life expectancy of about a year. I myself had been infected for twelve months, and was due to die at any moment.  
I got married in my late twenties, had two kids who were now in college, and three husbands. I guess they couldn't understand how important Harry Potter was to me. My third and final husband, a portly man who was the same age as me and loved me more than anything despite my Harry Potter craze, was at the bookstore purchasing a copy of the sixth Harry Potter book for me, as I myself could barely walk. He had caught the worldly plague from me, but he was only three months into the disease.  
As for my career, well let's just say that I never really decided on what I was going to do. I went to college for four years and got an English degree as I was planning on being a writer, but never finished any books I began writing because I spent most of my free time writing fanfiction over the internet. J.K. Rowling inspired me so much that whenever I tried to write an original piece of literature, I ended up plagiarizing. I eventually got a job as a secretary for about twenty years, but when my boss found out I was writing fanfiction when I was supposed to be writing business letters, he gave me the sack. I spent the rest of my healthy days working as a cashier at McDonald's, which wasn't the worst job, but didn't pay well either.  
So here I am, fifty years after I had every opportunity of a lifetime at my feet. I could have written a great novel, I could have become an English teacher; all of these opportunities were gone now, and all because of my anticipation for a book.  
I heard the door of our tiny apartment creak open: my husband was home. In his arm was the thing that had held me back in life: Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch, but in truth it was I that held me back in life. This truth was so unbearable that I blamed the book. He set the book down on the old, moth-eaten coffee table that was a wedding present from my mother, and hung his coat on the antique coat rack.  
"Honey, here it is, the book you've been waiting for!" he said as he ran over to me still staring blankly ahead.  
"Sweetheart, the book, your book, the one you've been waiting for for fifty years! Look!" He waved the book in front of my frail and sickly face. I finally snapped out of my stupor.  
"Yes," I said, my voice cracking as I looked at the book. "That it is." But I neither took the book, nor looked the least bit overjoyed.  
"What's the matter?" asked my husband concernedly.  
"Nothing," I said. But the truth was, nothing was ok. I finally realized that I had spent my entire life waiting for a book, never taking any risks, never leaving my mark. My entire trail of thought never exceeded the theories in my head over who was going to date whom in Harry Potter, or if Voldemort would be killed. I gasped and clutched my chest.  
"No...no don't do this! You'll be ok, I'll call the hospital! Everything is going to be ok!" But as he ran to the phone to call 911 both he and I knew that it was no hope. When the illness hit you with its fatal blow, that was the end of you and your life. If I had done anything meaningful in life, I may have not minded dying right there and then, but I did. I wanted to give a warning to my husband and my children not to make the same mistake as I. My husband finally abandoned the phone and came over to me, as I had fallen from my rocker and was now sprawled askew on the floor. I still stared blankly ahead.  
"Please say something!," pleaded my husband, as a single tear fell from his face and onto mine. "Please, don't leave me now!" I made a slight jerk and looked at him, my face also filled with tears. Slowly and with much difficulty, I uttered my last words, "Don't...mess up your life. It's...too...short. Tell....th-the children that. I...love you." He nodded slightly, bent over me and kissed my cheek. I rolled over to the side, my eyes closed for all of eternity, my arm over the book that destroyed all opportunities that were open to me in my life. Suddenly, my eyes were open. It was sunny. I got out of my bed and looked out my window. There were kids playing outside, birds chirping pleasantly in the maple trees, and me, alive and fifteen years old. I breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat off my face. "It was only a dream," I said with a sigh. "And thank God." I logged onto fanfiction.net and wrote this story: not to scare you, or taint your view of Harry Potter, of which I am a fan myself, but to remind you: you have your whole life ahead of you, don't ruin it waiting for a book to come out, don't let a book spoil your fun in life, don't be the old woman in my dream. 


	2. And another

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all the other people who own it/him. Summary: Here's the second chapter to this "sixth book anticipation" series. This story is different from the first one, but it has some of the same concepts. Please read and review! : ) WOW! Thanx to all the reviewers of the first & second chap! Srtyu, Owen- I read it in six days, lol. Green and Gooey Slime, Opal Flames, and Sweet Sorrow1! I don't know if I'll write any more chapters in this fic, but I will if I get any ideas!  
  
I was lazing around in reading club watching the falling snow, thinking about all the Harry Potter theories in my head. It was all I could do, for I had forgotten my life, or the fifth Harry Potter book. I looked at the clock. "9:30," I groaned silently. "Another half hour of torturous silence, and another five hours before I can get my book and start reading again." I had of course purchased Order of the Phoenix the second it came out, and finished it within four hours. I was now reading it a third time, and it kept getting better. I had successfully formed fifteen solid theories for the sixth book, which wouldn't be out for another two years. How would I be able to stand the long wait? I had to know what would happen to Harry and his friends! Who would die next? Who would be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? It was anguish! I had started reading Harry Potter when I was about twelve. The only other reading I did was for school assignments or teen magazines. I tried some other books, but they all lacked that certain something that was Harry Potter. I checked the time again. It was 9:45. 9:45! There was still another fifteen minutes to go. I sighed, and pretended to take interest in my history book as a teacher walked by. When the teacher was out of view, I closed my history book, got my notebook out of my book bag, and wrote down another theory that popped into my head. I then turned the page, and continued doodling the likeness of the cover of the second Harry Potter book that I had started. An exciting thought just crossed my mind. The third Harry Potter movie would be out on June Fourth of next year! I groaned as I realized that was nearly a sixth month wait. Nevertheless, I opened my agenda book and started the countdown. It was now 9:55. I had five minutes. With this short wait that seemed like eternity, I grabbed a book off the bookshelf, not even reading the cover. I flipped through the first few pages of it, then closed it and picked up another book. I found this book interesting, and read it for the remaining three minutes. When the bell finally rang, I checked out the book. The librarian said I would like it. I didn't know exactly why at the moment, but as I looked at the book cover later on that day, I understood. The title of the book was, "How to wait for the Sixth Harry Potter Book to Come Out." Maybe this would help. Then again, maybe it was just a book, written by another obsessive fan like me. None of the latter are true. This book doesn't to my knowledge exist. No, I wrote this story to emphasize all the Potter fans anticipation, including my own, which thankfully, isn't as bad. I hope none of you ever feel like your life is over because you forgot to bring Harry Potter to reading club. 


	3. Reflection of the Past

Chapter 3: Reflection of the Past  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and all the other people who own it. Any screen names I use in this fic are made up, and I'm sorry if they really exist; I doubt if they do. Thanks to kinda scared: Lol, I don't have fifteen theories, at least I don't think so, Sweet Sorrow1, catherine24, Dimgwrthien Adeline, and JoeBob1379 for reviewing! There might be one or two more chapters. If there are, I'll have them up either before or after Christmas because the homework is starting to pile up!  
  
I was seventy years old with a mild case of arthritis, and was still fully capable of typing away on my computer. I paused, thinking of how I got to this state. I was introduced to the computer at the young age of seven, and I loved it from the start. I was an avid fan of Harry Potter since I was ten, and enjoyed going to Harry Potter websites. The only problem was that I enjoyed the internet, and Harry Potter, a little too much. Ok, so I went to the grocery store and to the gas station for my morning cup of coffee and an occasional bingo game, where I made most of my money as the announcer. But other than that, I was hooked to the computer-and to Harry Potter. As for the merchandise, you name it; I probably have it or have had it at some point: the dolls, the cloaks, and all the cheesy merchandise you can imagine. How could someone live off being a bingo announcer? Well, I had retirement money to begin with, and I had saved money from winning the lottery when I was forty. I bought a little cottage in the woods, or my "forbidden forest", a computer, of course, and left the rest of the money in my retirement fund. I opened up a restaurant a few years ago called the "Broomsticks Coffee Shop" after The Three Broomsticks, which used to be a little renovated Dunkin' Donuts. I sold coffee, tea, and yes, butterbeer. Broomsticks did well at first, with other Harry Potter fans coming in who were much younger than me, but it soon became obvious that I was going to have to modernize the candle-lit shop. So I silently put away the butterbeer, renamed my shop, and put electricity in. After this reminiscence, I continued to type at the site, "HP for Oldies" in a forum entitled, "Am I the only seventy year old Harry Potter Fan?" I replied to this particular discussion with the following message: "No, you're definitely not the only seventy year old Harry Potter fan. I myself am seventy, and also love Harry Potter. Do you have any of the merchandise? I have any and all of it (sadly). I even opened up a restaurant that I originally called the "Broomsticks Coffee Shop" which I remodeled and renamed later for more business. Anyway, my email is Grannyhpfan123@HPforoldies.com; feel free to email me or reply to this post." Signed,  
Grannyhpfan I then went to my own HP site, which was called www.GrannysnottoooldforHP.com, and wrote a story about my restaurant actually being a success. While I was writing, I eagerly awaited for the "You've got mail" message, which I reprogrammed to say, "You've got owls." Checking the weather on weather.com, I saw that a huge snowstorm was on its way. I'd have to go to the store to get some food before the storm started. Someone had to email me soon. I decided to go to the grocery store. At the grocery store, I picked out a few necessities: prune juice, Campbell's soup, water, and éclairs. I had to scan my own food at the check out counter. There was simply no human interaction at all these days. A few hours after I had taken a nap, I heard "You've got owls" on my computer. I instinctively darted my head toward the window for the owl that I trained myself to send messages to neighbors, and then smacked myself on the head. "Of course, that was just the computer!"  
I darted to the computer with my walker and clicked on the mailbox with the yellow letter in it. There was a message from "TeenageHPfan." It read:  
"Hello, I'm a teen who also loves Harry Potter. I stumbled across HPforoldies.com, and had to check it out for amusement. When I saw you had not only posted, but also replied to your own message, I knew there was something wrong. Let me get this straight; you're seventy and still love Harry Potter after all those years? Wow! That is a little weird, but strangely, I see myself in your position when I am that old. And you opened up a restaurant after Harry Potter? That's really amazing. Well, I know I'm not seventy, but I just had to reply to your message on that website. E- mail back! -TeenageHPfan  
  
I went back to the website; I had posted and replied to my own message! I didn't remember doing it, either. Was I loosing my mind? Well, I hadn't lost my common sense. I emailed TeenageHPfan back this: "Hey, thanks for replying; I think it's funny that there's an HPforoldies.com too. I actually created it for fun. I just want you to know that it's not all that fun being a seventy-year-old fan of Harry Potter. I don't have any friends, I rarely go outside, and I have read Harry Potter so much that I know the books line by line. All I am saying is that you should take an interest in other things, like sports, drama, or anything that you like. I'm not saying that you shouldn't read Harry Potter, just read other stuff too." I clicked send, and looked out my window at the beautiful, yet disturbing sky. I put on my Harry Potter gloves, scarf, and hat, and stepped outside. I looked out as far as my eyes could see: at the city, with it's towering buildings, at the countryside, with its peaceful atmosphere, and at my little "forbidden forest." Then I looked up, and the first snowflake marking the storm landed on my nose. Beyond doubt, there was more to life than Harry Potter, and I still had time to experience other things. I got into my old station wagon, and not having a clear destination in mind, headed down the turning, weaving road. ~* End of Chapter 3. Please read and review! : ) *~ 


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